Fracture ns-3

by C. J. Daugherty

  ‘Zoe thinks of you as a big sister,’ Isabelle had said. ‘She needed you.’

  ‘Hey, Zoe,’ she called out. ‘Wait up.’

  The younger girl stopped in mid-stride. When she turned around, her expression was guarded.

  Zoe was a prodigy – just thirteen, she was already studying well above Allie’s level. The two of them had been close last term but after Jo’s death Zoe acted as if nothing important had happened. She didn’t seem to care. Allie never once saw her cry. She just got on with her life as if Jo had never existed.

  Early on, Dr Cartwright had tried to explain to Allie how Asperger’s worked but she hadn’t wanted to hear it at the time. It had just been too hard to take.

  Now, though, her own actions seemed mean to her.

  When she caught up to her, Allie rushed into her apology. ‘I just wanted to tell you again that I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you. It wasn’t fair. I’ve been messed up but I shouldn’t have… done that.’

  Zoe’s face screwed up, and Allie knew she was thinking it over – flipping through the words as if they were numbers. Adding them up. Coming up with a reply.

  ‘I forgive you,’ she said finally. ‘But you can’t do it again or I won’t be your friend. And that’s for ever.’

  Something fluttered loose in Allie’s heart. She couldn’t lose Zoe. She needed her. She spoke with a fervour she hadn’t realised she felt.

  ‘I won’t do it again, Zoe. I swear it. And I… I really hope things can go back the way they were. Please. Let’s just… be normal again.’

  Clearly satisfied by this, Zoe gave a nod that sent her ponytail swinging. ‘Good. I want that, too.’

  Side by side, they walked down the narrow corridor lined on both sides with small white doors, each with a number painted on it in black.

  Tilting her head to one side, Zoe spoke with her usual bluntness. ‘Why did you run away? Because you were sad?’

  Allie hesitated. ‘Yeah…’ she said eventually. ‘I was sad.’

  Zoe seemed to accept this. ‘Where did you go?’

  There was no easy answer to this question.

  ‘To church, in the end.’ Allie’s voice was rueful. ‘Although that wasn’t the plan. Like… at all.’

  ‘What was the plan?’

  ‘To go to London and find out who hurt Jo.’ Allie shrugged – it sounded so foolish now. ‘Somehow.’

  ‘Aren’t you from London?’ Zoe’s gaze sharpened.

  ‘Yeah…?’

  ‘Nathaniel would have found you immediately. He’d know right where you’d go. It was a terrible plan.’

  Allie opened her mouth to reply then closed it again. Zoe had a point.

  When they reached the younger girl’s door, Zoe stopped. ‘If you ever decide to run away again, come to me. I’ll help you choose the best place to go. Statistically speaking.’

  Allie was surprised by how much that touched her; for a second she didn’t trust herself to speak. When she recovered, though, her reply was fervent.

  ‘If I ever run away again you will be the first person I tell.’

  When she opened the door to her room, the chemical-lemon smell of furniture polish greeted Allie before she’d even switched on the light. She inhaled deeply. Loath though she was to admit it to herself, she was glad her dirty clothes had been taken away and fresh towels stacked on the shelf by the door. Glad everything was orderly.

  Outside, cold winter rain tapped against the bedroom window as if it was trying to get in. She dropped her book bag by the desk with a clunk and kicked off her shoes. The room was warm and snug.

  Grabbing the thick stack of work assignments her teachers had given her to make up, she sat down on the floor to sort through it – she’d need a lot of space.

  ‘Let’s see,’ she muttered, frowning as she looked at the first page. ‘This is urgent.’ She set it on the floor to her right. ‘And this is… sort of urgent.’ She set another paper on top of the first. ‘This is’ – she held the next sheet – ‘totally freaking urgent.’

  The process continued in that manner for some time as the ‘urgent’ stack grew alarmingly. When she’d gone through everything in the file, she looked around in dismay; the floor was so covered in paper she could barely see the whitewashed wood beneath it.

  ‘Bollocks,’ she announced to no one. ‘I’m totally screwed.’

  In the end, she decided the biggest worry was an English essay for Isabelle’s class – twelve hundred words on the Romantics in Italy due the next day. Allie hadn’t read a single page of the assigned work.

  She was flipping worriedly through her English textbook when someone knocked at her door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said without looking up.

  ‘Hey, Al… lie.’ Rachel’s voice trailed off as she walked in, her eyes widening at the scene in front of her. ‘Yowza. That is, like, a whole tree on your floor.’

  ‘Help.’ Allie waved her assignment at her. ‘What do you know about the Romantics in Italy?’

  ‘That depends. In Tuscany?’ Rachel walked the rest of the way in, closing the door behind her. ‘Or in Rome?’

  Allie gave her a desperate look. ‘They went to more than one place?’

  Without replying, Rachel held out her hand. Allie gave her the paper and she scanned it quickly. ‘I did this one already so, let’s see…’ Looking through the books on Allie’s shelves, Rachel pulled out a slim volume. ‘This is what I used. Chapter eight has everything. Read that and you can write up a basic essay – quote some Shelley poems to take up space. That man liked the sound of his own voice. Check it out.’

  Holding up the book in one hand, she intoned with great drama:

  ‘Let a vast assembly be,

  And with great solemnity

  Declare with measured words that ye

  Are, as God has made ye, free…’

  Allie held out her hand for the book. ‘Rachel, God has made ye a life-saver.’

  ‘That’s what they tell me.’ Rachel’s smile was steady but Allie knew her well enough to see the hint of uncertainty behind it.

  Still, she reassured herself, at least the smile happened.

  A sudden silence fell. Allie flipped through the papers trying to think of something to say but Rachel filled the conversational gap. ‘Did Jerry tell you I’m your chemistry teacher now?’

  Allie tried to affect cool. ‘Don’t think this means I’m your bitch. I’m still a free woman.’

  Rachel grinned, genuinely this time. ‘Oh really? Who’s your daddy?’

  ‘Wait…’ Allie swung cautiously back into the rhythm of their rapid-fire rapport, although it felt creaky after so long away. ‘Are you saying my new daddy is a girl named Rachel? When I write a memoir I’m calling it “Allie Has Two Daddies and One of Them Is Rachel”.’

  ‘You will sell a million copies and I will be famous. I’ll accept a percentage.’ Rachel rubbed her hands gleefully. ‘So, should we start suffering… I mean working tonight? An hour of science torture will be good for you.’

  The banter made Allie feel almost normal. Like she had her friend back.

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘No.’ Rachel walked to the door. ‘See you at dinner, minion. Where you can peel my grapes.’

  EIGHT

  ‘Allie, help me! Oh God. Please help me…’ In the darkness, Jo’s terrified voice sailed eerily on the breeze that rattled the tree branches above Allie’s head.

  Each word cut Allie like a blade. Panicked and desperate, she ran left, then right, then left again. But the voice never seemed to get any closer and it was getting harder to breathe. Her chest felt as if it was wrapped in bands of iron, inexorably tightening.

  Trying to summon the breath to speak, she panted harshly.

  ‘I can’t find you, Jo!’ she called weakly. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Allie!’ For some reason the hope in Jo’s voice broke her heart. ‘Help me! Please!’

  A sob tore Allie’s throat as she ran. Trees th
at seemed to swoop down to snatch at her clothes with branches that ended in sharp points, like long, jagged nails. She ignored the pain. She had to find Jo. If she could just get to her in time, she’d live.

  She was exhausted by the time she saw Jo in the distance, lying on her back in a grove of trees, blonde hair glowing around her head like a halo. Her cornflower blue eyes stared up at the sky, unseeing.

  Dropping to her knees, Allie reached for her slim hand. ‘I’m here, Jo. I’m here.’

  Jo’s breath rattled in her throat. As she turned to look at Allie her blue eyes clouded over and turned white.

  ‘Too late, Allie,’ she said bitterly. ‘You’re too late. I’m already dead. And it’s your fault.’

  Looking down, Allie realised she held the hand of a corpse – Jo’s fingers were blue and cold, lifeless.

  She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out…

  Gasping for air, Allie sat bolt upright. Sweat streamed down her face as she searched the dark room with terrified eyes. She scrambled back in the bed like a cornered animal until she huddled against the headboard, trembling.

  Strangled breaths burned her throat. Her heart thudded in her ears.

  It was just that dream again. I’m in my room, she told herself. I’m in my room and I’m safe and everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK. Everything’s OK…

  But the walls closed in on her anyway.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she took in a long, slow, shaky breath, trying to force air into her compressed lungs. She wheezed as tiny wisps of air struggled to get through. Flashes of light sparked at the edge of her vision.

  She used the tricks Carter had taught her for dealing with panic attacks – breathing slowly through her nose and thinking of things that made her happy.

  Kittens, she thought frantically. Little fluffy ones! Sunny days! Chocolate ice cream! Beaches!

  Even as she was still trying to compile it, the list seemed so ridiculous she choked on a laugh, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  As it had before, the trick worked. Gradually the walls began to return to their real locations and her racing heartbeat steadied.

  But the experience left her shaken.

  ‘It was just a dream,’ she said aloud, clutching a pillow tight to her chest like a shield. ‘Just a dream.’

  The darkness felt oppressive and she flipped on the desk lamp, reaching for her alarm clock. It was half past four in the morning.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she leaned back against the cold wall, shoving strands of her hair out of her face.

  Today she started her garden detention – three days a week she was to work from six in the morning until eight in the walled garden. There was still another hour before she needed to get up but she didn’t want to go back to sleep – she could feel the dream around her, coiled like a snake, waiting to strike should she doze.

  Instead, she took a long hot shower then, back in her room, rooted through her dresser for her warmest clothes, choosing as many layers as she could stack – thermal underwear, exercise trousers and two pullovers under her heaviest jumper. When she was ready it was still too early, so she worked on her English essay until six.

  The school was eerily silent at this hour; even the staff were nowhere to be seen as she made her way down the stairs. The creak of the back door as it opened echoed in the quiet like a scream.

  Outside, it might as well have been midnight – not a glimmer of light showed on the horizon aside from the faint light of stars. The grass was covered in a thick frost that crunched beneath the rubber soles of her shoes as she headed across the back lawn.

  God it was cold. It was so cold that breathing made her nose ache and her forehead seemed to tighten around her brain.

  Shoving her gloved hands into her pockets, she tried to burrow deeper into her coat.

  Gardening in February, she complained to herself. Do people actually do this? On purpose?

  Denuded of leaves, the trees lining the footpath behind the school formed a gloomy, skeletal canopy above her. Lowering her eyes, she quickened her pace.

  To her left she could just make out a ghostly white domed roof of the marble folly through the trees. Ahead of her, the footpath disappeared in the dark.

  Uneasy, Allie broke into a gentle jog.

  She didn’t want to admit she was afraid. She told herself she needed to warm up her muscles so they’d ache less when she started working. But tension turned her stomach sour.

  When she reached a long, tall wall made of heavy squares of aged grey stone she allowed herself to relax a little. The garden was inside it. Turning left, she followed it to a sturdy wooden gate. Normally it was kept locked but today the combination lock hung open and the gate stood slightly ajar.

  At the sight of it, a tingle of unease ran down Allie’s spine. Her mind flashed back to Jo, expertly spinning the little dials on the lock. The gate was never left unlocked.

  Someone must have left it open for me, she reasoned. It’s not like I’m not expected. How else would I get in?

  Still, as she stepped through she moved with caution, lowering her centre of gravity, her muscles tense.

  The walled garden was vast – in the summer it produced enough vegetables and fruit to feed the entire school, but at this time of year it looked bare and dead. And as far as she could tell it was deserted.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, standing on her toes to peer into the darkness. ‘Mr Ellison?’

  Her voice sank into the cold earth.

  Someone should be here to meet her. It’s not like going out to the garden in the middle of the night was her idea, after all.

  This was starting to piss her off.

  It must be well after six now. But here she was, alone in the dark, wandering aimlessly.

  ‘This is so freaking stupid,’ Allie muttered to herself as she pushed through a tangle of dry branches. ‘I might as well have a sign on my back that says, “Please attack me, Nathaniel”.’ A thorn she couldn’t see tugged at her sleeve and she yanked her arm free. ‘“I’m alone and vulnerable in the dark. Swoop in now and take me back to your hellhole of global domination.” And why didn’t I bring a bloody torch?’

  At that moment, a sharp cracking sound rang in the air. She whirled towards the noise but could see nothing in the darkness.

  Maybe I just heard myself step on something¸ she thought hopefully. And it echoed.

  But a nerve fluttered in her cheek, betraying her tension.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice sounded uncertain and she cleared her throat. ‘Is anyone there?’

  Nobody answered.

  Allie stopped talking. Maybe it wasn’t great to be advertising her location.

  After a long moment of heavy silence she heard it again – the sharp crack of a branch snapping.

  And she hadn’t moved.

  Allie’s training kicked in – her heart pounding, she dropped down into a low crouch, muffling a grunt as her battered knee protested. Staying very still, she listened.

  Snap.

  There it is again.

  Someone was definitely there – no animal could make that noise. But, whoever it was, they seemed to be at the far end of the garden, although it was hard to tell where precisely – the sound echoed off the encircling walls.

  She stayed low, hidden by darkness and dry brush, thinking through her options. She felt strangely calm. Maybe it was the lingering effect of her panic attack earlier – her adrenaline failed to kick in.

  She knew she should run back to the school to get help. That is what Isabelle would want her to do.

  But what if it was Nathaniel? Or Gabe? What if they were here now? This could be her chance to end this. To pay them back for what they’d done.

  She wasn’t back to full strength. And she was alone. Fighting them now would be a bad idea. If she lost…

  She didn’t know what would happen if she lost.

  But all she could think was: If I won… it would all be ov
er.

  In the end, the decision wasn’t that difficult. Rising to her feet she looked for a makeshift weapon.

  Whatever the odds – it didn’t matter. If they were here she wasn’t running away. She owed Jo that much. She owed her bravery.

  Finding two sharp bamboo stakes, she yanked them free of the frozen earth and carried one in each hand as, with careful steps, she crossed to the edge of the garden. There she paused to listen then, moving with stealth and speed, she followed her instincts towards the fruit orchard at the back.

  She couldn’t feel the cold any more. Purpose made her warm and whole. She was entirely focused on what she was about to do.

  She was almost there when she heard the sound again – much closer now. It came from the other side of the row of trees in front of her. Whoever it was, they were in there.

  Her nerves tingled with anticipation – her stomach muscles tightened as she readied herself to spring.

  That was when she heard the laugh.

  The deep, familiar rumble was followed immediately by words she couldn’t make out and then another chuckle.

  She knew that laugh.

  No longer trying to keep quiet, she shoved through the dense cluster of apple and pear trees, half hidden in the early morning dark.

  ‘… and his face turned red, and his eyes bulged out of his face, and I swear to God…’

  Bursting through the trees she saw Carter with his back to her, breaking thin branches into smaller sizes and piling them up as he told his story. Nearby, Mr Ellison smiled as he sharpened a set of clippers. A battery-powered lantern sat between them on the ground.

  Embarrassment made heat rise to Allie’s cheeks. How could she have thought it was Nathaniel? She was paranoid.

  But for God’s sake, she thought, why weren’t they looking out for me instead of sitting back here nattering?

  Shame turned to anger in one red-hot instant.

  ‘Hey!’ She shouted louder than she’d intended. Carter whirled to face her, still holding a long branch in one hand. He looked gratifyingly startled. ‘Why didn’t anyone answer me when I called?’

  She could hear the irritation in her own voice but before Carter could say anything Mr Ellison pointed his clippers at her, a frown lowering his brow.